


Dancing a Two-Step

by 0Rocky41_7



Series: A Royal Scandal [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Courtship, F/M, Flirting, Orlesian (Dragon Age) Balls, Orlesian Culture and Customs, vivienne-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Rocky41_7/pseuds/0Rocky41_7
Summary: At the second of Duke Bastien's parties, Vivienne is well aware what an outsider she is. The duke takes it upon himself to personally entertain her.
Relationships: Bastien de Ghislain/Vivienne
Series: A Royal Scandal [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666999
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the first of my companion pieces to my Vivienne fic "And Around Her Neck, A String of Comets". This is, per the description, the second party Bastien has invited Vivienne to, and they are still learning their steps around each other.

The salon of the Ghislain estate was resplendent in its glory, a rich mural of gilded statues championing Orlesian triumph, marble floors that glittered in the candlelight, and tapestries detailing scenes of times long past. Among the guests, servants fluttered with trays of refreshments from the laden table against one wall. Talk was everywhere, and Vivienne drank it all in—the conniving, the plotting, the insults, the false obeisance. It had entertained her all through the duke’s last party, and through much of this one, but it had also been made very apparent that she was a stranger, an unwelcome mongrel begging at the backdoor on the good graces of the master of the house. She had lost track of the number of times she had been addressed as _mage_. Among the Orlesian upper class, she realized, that’s all she was—not a person, not even a peasant, just a toy, something the duke had provided for their entertainment, or worse—a detestable interloper, a mangy stray at which the decent turned up their noses, but did not have the authority to drive out. They could kick at her though, and they did aplenty, but Vivienne refused to let them see her wince.

“You look bored, Vivienne.” The mere use of her name told her it was Duke Bastien, even before she registered his identity around the mask. “Andraste preserve me, I shall throw myself upon the sword if I’ve brought you here only to be bored.”

“Just listening, Your Grace,” she said, twisting her champagne flute around between her fingers. “There are many little birds here tonight.”

“As they say—the walls in Val Royeaux have ears,” the duke said. Vivienne nodded in acknowledgement and cast another eye over the crowd. It was sore work, learning their little game, and if Vivienne were honest, her pride was smarting too keenly to encourage her to go back among them just yet. “Let me show you something, you may find it of more interest,” said His Grace, offering her a hand up from her seat.

Intrigued, and willing to take a brief respite from doing battle with the Orlesian upper class, Vivienne placed her hand in his and rose up, the folds of her powder blue gown rustling. She had been positively frantic for a new one for this party—wearing the same dress she had worn to the duke’s last soiree would see her done in before she’d even aligned her pieces on the chessboard. She found among the enchanters, one who was a talented seamstress, and together with a great deal of promising favors, Vivienne’s design, and some fabric Vivienne had scavenged from old curtains in the Circle, they managed to produce the gown she wore now. Well worth the chores she had taken over from Ursula in exchange.

“Where are we going?” Vivienne asked as the duke led her away from the party. It quickly grew quiet, the sounds of the partygoers’ chatter swallowed by carpets and thick walls as they went down the hall.

“I have something here I thought might entertain you better,” he said.

“Never fear for my amusement, Your Grace,” she said. “I have found these parties most…illuminating.” The duke’s salon was a classroom for her, and as bruising as they were turning out to be, they were teaching her something invaluable: how to play the Great Game.

“Illuminating!” He laughed. “There’s a word I haven’t yet heard used for them. Most might choose ‘obfuscating’ first. Or ‘dangerous’. I do want to apologize for the Countess Montbelliard—she was wholly out of line, and I will not see her back here until she repents suitably.”

“That’s not necessary, Your Grace,” Vivienne said.

“It is. I invited you here, I would not have my guests treat you as an oddity.”

“Your Grace, I am a mage at an Orlesian party,” Vivienne said. “Surely you did not expect different.” Truthfully, Vivienne had not been sure what to expect herself—she had spent her entire life in the Circle. The only views of outsiders she had were the stories she heard from templars and mages who had not come to the Circle until later in life, or who had had more contact with the rest of the world than she.

“I…suppose I could not,” the duke said with a quiet sigh. “Still. I hope they will not drive you away.”

“It will take far more concentrated effort than that,” Vivienne said as the duke opened a set of mahogany double doors, inlaid with brass decoration and an entirely unnecessary set of knockers in the shape of lions’ heads.

“I did hope so,” he said, gesturing for Vivienne to enter the room. “I have a suspicion you could undo a good half of them, given the chance.”

“You have great faith in my abilities, Your Grace,” Vivienne said as she stepped into a library. Floor to ceiling shelves, with ladders attached to peruse with ease—the kind of place Vivienne could spend hours. A wonderful set of Orlesian windows opened the center, and would have lit up the room, if it were not too dark out. The thick carpet laid out before them muffled the sound of Vivienne’s heels and she turned to look at the duke with a coy sort of smile. “Now, what was it you brought me here for?”

“This way,” he said, beckoning her with a finger as he headed over into the left side of the library. “Can you give us a light?”

Vivienne waved her hand and gathered the Fade around her hand to produce a glowing white orb whose light radiated out so brightly she took it down a notch before allowing it to hover nearby.

“Fantastic!” The duke looked properly tickled by the little trick, which Vivienne waved off. One half of his guests had been trying to squeeze such gimmicks out of her all night; the other half continually warned her that if she so much as thought of casting a spell they’d have the templars there before she could sneeze. “Just a moment.” He climbed up the ladder, and examined one of the top shelves for several moments, while Vivienne wondered how many books were in his own private library. “I heard the library at Montsimmard is quite substantial,” the duke remarked.

“Certainly larger than the one at Ostwick,” Vivienne said. “But not so large as the one at the White Spire.”

“Do you spend much time there? In the library?” There was a slight hoarseness to Duke Bastien’s tenor that came naturally, from age or by chance, and Vivienne found a touch of charm in it. It made his voice easily identifiable among the crowd, chattering in Orlesian with their various accents from around the empire.

“Quite a lot, yes. There is always something to be gained in the library,” Vivienne said. “Although nothing beats practical application.”

“I imagine the templars might disagree with you. Is that…no, no.” He scrutinized the book spines.

“Some of them, yes,” Vivienne replied. “I strive to give them no cause for concern.”

“And how do you manage that?” The duke looked down at her. A smile curved up Vivienne’s lips. While she had managed a new dress, she was still wearing the same blasted black mask from the ball—something she would have to remedy for the next event, should the duke invite her again.

“By being good at what I do.”

“And they accept that?”

“Sometimes.”

“What happens when they don’t?” The duke had clearly become distracted by his task, so Vivienne waved her light orb further down the shelf to remind him what he was doing. When he realized she meant not to answer, he went back to his search, and then exclaimed, “Aha! Here it is. I knew we had left it there.” Gently, he eased a tome out of the shelf and came back down the ladder. “I suppose you could consider this a family heirloom, just not one we talk about much.” He carried it over to a table and set it down, blowing some dust off it. “The story is that it is one of the instructive books from the original Circle in Val Royeaux. This one is all about herbology.”

“What makes you think this would interest me?” Vivienne allowed no indication in her tone about whether it did or it didn’t; a younger man would have begun to sweat. She waited to see what Duke Bastien would do.

“At the Wintersend ball, you told me about barriers,” he said. “And the different forms of construction, different materials. It was something I had never thought about. I thought if you paid so much attention to such things, you must have read a great deal—and perhaps this would interest you.”

Vivienne, giving into curiosity, traced her fingers over the title and opened the book.

“This is a historical artifact,” she said, ignoring the duke watching her. “How is it in your own personal library?” She moderated her tone, so as not to come off accusing—just yet. Testing the limits of Bastien’s patience has been an equal part of her learning at the Ghislain estate—so far, she had not hit a wall. Still, she was certain the edge was _there_ —she’d have to keep needling until she found it.

“Wars and conflict happen, things get displaced.” The duke shrugged. “It may have been looted, it may have been lost…all I know is that it has been here since I was too small to climb that ladder. In other words, before Andraste.” Vivienne let out a short laugh. If the duke smiled, she couldn’t see behind his full-face mask, which gleamed a grayish-green in the odd light.

“And _that_ has made this entire soiree a worthy affair,” he said. Vivienne removed her glove to page through the volume, taking in the carefully scripted notes, faded so with age that she struggled to make out the words in some places. What knowledge was contained in it? It was valuable as a historical document if nothing else—Vivienne had to put aside the urge to sweep it back to the Circle. “Should I leave you alone with the book now?” he asked. “I suppose I can’t very well show it to you and not let you read it.”

“I can’t possibly read all of this before the end of the party,” Vivienne said, casting a sideways glance at the duke.

“Well, I suppose you will have to come back,” he said. “If you care to finish it.”

“Is that an invitation, Your Grace?”

“Consider it extended,” he said. Success! For a few moments, she flipped through the herbology tome, and then Bastien leaned back against the table, openly observing her. “May I ask you something, Vivienne?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” She didn’t look up from the book, studying a water-stained detail of an embrium bloom. “This is your library.”

“Just how powerful a mage are you?” _That_ got her attention. Her chin snapped up and she looked over at him, feeling the magic pool in her left hand, acutely aware that she did not know this man hardly at all. Just for a heartbeat, she was forced to consider how First Enchanter Tamika would have scolded her for what she was doing now.

“That’s a difficult question to answer, Your Grace,” she said. “There is no standard measure for such things. Why do you ask?”

“I see how quiet you are around us,” he said, gesturing. “But I think you are far cleverer than you want us to know. It seems to me a mage so clever as to hide how clever she is must be powerful.”

“Cleverness and power are not the same thing,” she said.

“Well how about this…” He shifted, turning to face her directly. “You walk like a woman who could wreck this chateau down around her ankles if she so chose.” Vivienne, aware that her mask did not hide her mouth, had to stop the smile from curving up her lips.

“I would never,” she said, turning her gaze back to the book. “Not when your soirees are so delightful.”

“But you could?”

“Your Grace, do I frighten you?” Vivienne asked teasingly, turning her dancing brown eyes on him. “You should have considered that before you took me alone to a dark, secluded library.”

“I shouldn’t call it fear,” he said honestly. “Or I would not wish to stay.”

“Fear doesn’t have to be a repellant,” Vivienne said, and the orb hovering around their heads dimmed without her consciously thinking of it.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice gone softer.

“Can a thrill exist without fear?” she asked, lowering her voice accordingly. “Isn’t that what makes the Game exciting? The fear of loss?”

“More than the desire for gain?” he asked. In the low light, Vivienne could not have said what color his eyes were—habitually shadowed by the mask, it was hard to say. Sometimes she thought a muddy green, other times, a lighter brown. Now, they were much too dark to make a guess.

“Both together are what make it such a potent cocktail,” Vivienne opined. “One must have both elements in equal measure.”

“You sound as if you’re concocting a potion,” said the duke, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Only speaking from observation,” Vivienne demurred, realizing how faint the light had grown. The duke was so near to her, she would barely have to extend her arm to touch him.

“What was it you said earlier, about practical application?”

“I said that it was best, Your Grace.” She felt his fingers brush hers on the open book, and the orb promptly went dark, leaving them with nothing but the silver starlight beaming through the Orlesian windows across from the great double doors, and the faint, red light of the candles in the hall seeping through the open doors. Vivienne’s heart would not respond to her efforts to calm it, but she held still, waiting to see what the duke would do when she had given him the cover of darkness.

The duke’s fingers crept over her hand, the silk of his gloves caressing the back of her hand. When she did not draw away, they closed slowly around it, lifting her hand from the book. There was a stirring, in the darkness—he must have removed his mask, or pushed it aside—and she felt the gentlest press of a kiss against her knuckles.

Vivienne stood like one of the duke and duchess’ golden statues as the duke lowered her hand back to the book, and released her.

“I believe I have kept you from the festivities long enough, Madame Vivienne,” he said, a husky note in his voice that made something clench in Vivienne’s chest. “But if you should wish to stay here…” He moved around her, rifling through the darkness for a moment before striking a match and lighting a candelabra on the table. “…you are more than welcome.” When the candles burst into light, she saw his face was masked again.

He did not allow her to make a rebuttal before he bowed low—too low, much too low for a duke to bow to a mage—and made his exit.

It had gone so well—Vivienne continued to hold the duke’s interest, to lure him in and keep him chasing after her—so why did she stand there in the candlelight, with the open herbology volume, feeling that she had been outplayed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a couple of things I hoped to call out here:
> 
> 1\. Bastien is aware of what an intellectual Vivienne is. She's playing the wide-eyed debutante a bit, lulling people into a sense of security, but Bastien sees past that to how intelligent and talented she is, and that's what really draws him in.
> 
> 2\. He listens to her. He paid attention to their conversations at the Wintersend ball and thought about them afterwards.
> 
> 3\. General toying with the idea of Orlesian masks. They're such a part of Orlesian culture that I'm sure there is a sense of vulnerability in their removal. Originally, this piece was meant to be the first time Vivienne sees Bastien without the mask, but as I was writing it, that just felt too rushed. Bastien has grown up in Orlais, and so has likely been wearing masks since he was a teenager (or possibly even a child, I'm not 100% on the details of the custom), which would make the removal more significant for him than Vivienne, who has only recently adopted the custom (I assume Circle mages in Orlais don't wear masks around the Circle, but I could be wrong).
> 
> Here we see Bastien realizing his "little crush" on Vivienne is not so little, and Vivienne _feeling things_ about this, which was never supposed to happen.
> 
> Who else made a dress out of curtains? Scarlet O'Hara, from _Gone with the Wind_ did, when she wanted to fool Rhett into thinking her family hadn't lost all their money. I figured Vivienne has that kind of creativity and resourcefulness--she'd have to, to play the Game as well as she does!


	2. Omake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-party, Bastien and Nicoline discuss.

“Did you really say that?”

“Say what?” Bastien looked up from the basin where he was rinsing his face. Nicoline affected a dramatic tone as she dug through the contents of his vanity, still wearing her party dress and mask. Her gloves had been cast off elsewhere, sure to be the subject of the next morning’s annoyed searching.

“‘I shall fall on the sword if you are not entertained!’”

“What, you think it was too dramatic?” Too concerned over this possibility, Bastien forgot to not that wasn’t _exactly_ what he had said, and if she would quote him properly when making fun of him, please.

“I think it was a bit hysterical,” said Nicoline, yanking open a drawer to rifle through it. “You’re too old to lose your head like this, Bastien.”

“I haven’t _lost_ anything,” he said, grabbing a towel to dry his face.

“Everyone is talking about it,” she said. “Do you know how many questions I’ve fielded about this? This is the second time this month you’ve invited her in. And that’s not even _touching_ the Wintersend ball. Duchess Chantilly still won’t speak to me. You know I said hello to her at the Girardi salon the other day and she didn’t even _look_ at me? I’m disinviting her from the next soiree.”

“Bah, Duchess Chantilly needs to get her head out of her—” Bastien paused at the look on Nicoline’s face, daring him to finish that statement, then concluded: “—gardens.”

“You ignored her the entire night,” Nicoline pointed out. “Your promised her a dance, and then you spent the entire night with some pretty young mage. She’s furious and I cannot blame her.”

“It wasn’t about _that_ ,” Bastien said. When Nicoline gave him a knowing look, he amended: “It was _mostly_ not about that.”

“Anyway, you know why you haven’t yet managed to drive her off. You’re a duke. She’s in the Circle.”

“Well I do _hope_ that is not all that keeps her coming back.”

“You do have the advantage of being the only player on the field,” Nicoline allowed. “There isn’t anyone else as yet insane enough to give chase to a Circle mage. Where is that wretched _bracelet_?” She rattled around the drawer, and went on digging.

“You don’t think this is a game I could win?” he asked, only half in jest. The idea that he might only hold Vivienne’s attention because no one else was vying for it was less than comforting.

“I think you want it too badly,” Nicoline said with a shrug, looking at Bastien there in his robe, mask-less. “How could you ever play at your best when you’re so invested?”

“I hate it when you tell the truth,” Bastien told her. “Go back to your own rooms!”

“I haven’t found my bracelet yet!” Nicoline protested.

“Go and find it tomorrow!”

“Wait, wait—there!” She thrust her hand deep into the drawer and emerged with a golden armband. “There it is. I knew I had left it on the vanity.” She took a moment to observe the bracelet with pride, then bid her husband goodnight and was on her way.

“Hysterical…” Bastien frowned. “I was not _hysterical.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, you might also check out...  
> \- [marcid - incredibly exhausted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937247) by adlerobsessed  
> \- [Love Song of a Dying Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416518) by sarenka  
> \- [Dignity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991622) by ringofdoubt

**Author's Note:**

> [On tumblr](https://imakemywings.tumblr.com/post/612851332992401408/fandom-dragon-age-inquisition-rating-g-pairing) | [On Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1154153)


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